


Sacrifice

by PeppermintGlow



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Brotp, Gen, Royalty AU, War AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-26
Updated: 2016-02-26
Packaged: 2018-05-23 08:46:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6111241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeppermintGlow/pseuds/PeppermintGlow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>King Seungcheol buys back the life of his little brother Samuel. </p><p>The cost of Samuel's life is great.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sacrifice

“My lord Seungcheol,” a guard graveled his way. “The enemy guard approaches.”

Seungcheol, in all his delicate finery, practically flew out of his tent, sprinting towards the front lines. From over the hilltop came three guards, in full armor but weaponless. One was pulling a child along in his arms: it was too weak to walk.

“ _Samuel,_ ” Seungcheol whispered, voice cracking under the strain. He sprinted forward beyond the safe lines of his camp to hurtle towards the stumbling child, instantly gripping him in his arms. “Samuel. Samuel, Samuel. It’s okay. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

One of the guards in the night looked at Seungcheol. “Our lord would remind you of the deal you brokered.”

Seungcheol nodded once. “Yes.”

“Tomorrow, at dawn.”

“Yes, yes.”

The three guards looked at each other and then turned tail and ran back. Over the hill was their encampment, where their lord sat and waged war upon Seungcheol’s kingdom. Seungcheol just held his baby brother in his arms, tears starting to pour as he held him. Samuel was back. Samuel was back, in his arms, where he belonged.

The boy stirred when Seungcheol turned back to his own camp: his little weak arms moved and his voice was hoarse. “Hyung?”

“Shhhhh,” Seungcheol cooed, being careful not to jostle the boy in his arms. “You don’t need to be afraid anymore. Hyung’s got you. Hyung’s got you safe and sound, and nobody else will ever hurt you again.”

“ _Hyung,_ ” Samuel repeated. If he’d had the strength, the boy would have cried.

The medic was called to the King’s tent immediately: once there, Seungcheol placed his littlest brother down on a bundle of soft pillows, hot tears paying decorum no heed as they sped down his cheeks.

Samuel – little, tiny Samuel – was shaking from head to toe like a frightened rabbit. He was thin – too thin, so thin that his bones were sticking out in certain places, making him a sickly frame of a boy. He was dirty all over, skin dyed and darkened with mud; it was tangled in his hair, soaked into his clothes.

His clothes! Sack rags, what seemed to be a potato bag roughly chopped up to become a dress robe: no clothing for a princely boy. Crusts of blood adorned his forehead and temples, dirt smeared in thick lines over his sunken, dulled face. His thin, shaking little arms had broken, bloody nails at their ends that weakly reached up for his older brother, desperate not to lose contact for fear he was just a dream.

The medic was retrieved in good time: Seungcheol held his brother’s hand throughout the whole ordeal. The medic washed Samuel, treated his wounds (minor, in comparison to some which men on the field of battle had sustained) and dressed him in warm, clean clothes again: throughout, the boy seemed to drift in and out of consciousness, but always holding a weak grip onto his big brother.

“Muel… Muel.” Seungcheol sat Samuel up in his lap. “Here, juice. Drink.” He helped his baby brother drink, and then eat a little bread: the more he ate, the more his appetite returned – not in any fashion as before, but it was reassuring that he would be alright.

“Hyung… are you real?” the boy asked. His voice was so light – frail and hurt but unendingly loyal and so hopeful – it brought fresh tears to the King’s eyes. “Are you a ghost? Am I… finally dead?”

“No,” Seungcheol cried, holding Samuel tighter. “No, kiddo. Baby boy. You’re safe now. You’re safe and nobody is ever, ever going to take you away again. Do I make myself clear?” His words were broken by the harried, painful sobs that rippled through his chest. “Nobody is ever going to hurt my baby brother ever again!”

It didn’t take long for the little boy to fall into sobbing either: the two gripped each other as best they could.

“Hyung… they hurt me… they hurt me so much… I thought… you weren’t… going to… I thought I’d die there…”

“Shhhhhh,” Seungcheol swept away his brother’s hair and kissed his forehead. “You’re not going to die. You hear me? You’re going to be okay. You’re safe now, baby brother. Shhhhhh. You’re safe now.” Samuel sobbed on and off throughout the night, needing nourishment after every bout, taking some bread and little meat, but the more he had, the more it reassured the King.

It did not take long: the boy had been tortured in enemy hands, and he soon needed to sleep. He slept on Seungcheol’s lap, in his arms, for the King would not put down his baby brother for all the world. Seungcheol wiped sleepy tears off his face and cooed him through nightmares with lullabies their mother had once sung. When the sky began to lighten outside, Seungcheol took a deep breath and laid his brother down again.

“Hyung?” The boy woke when warmth left him.

“Samuel.” Seungcheol did all he could to mask the pain in his voice – he had hoped Samuel would sleep through this, that he wouldn’t have to know until after the fact. “Go back to sleep.”

“Not sleepy anymore.” Samuel opened his sweet eyes. “Where are you going?”

“Go back to sleep,” the King pleaded.

It took Samuel a moment. “…what did you trade?”

“Mmm?”

“Enemies don’t give up prince hostages,” the boy said. The words seemed so unnatural coming from such a pale, thin, small body. “What did you trade for me?”

“My brother,” Seungcheol whispered, giving Samuel a kiss to the forehead. “Go back to sleep.” With that final command he turned, laid his crown on the table of his tent, and walked to the entrance.

“No,” Samuel whispered. “No!” The little boy clambered off the bed, small and sickly as he was, stumbling out after his eldest brother. “No! Hyung, no, please, no. What did you trade? Hyung! What did you trade, hyung?!”

Seungcheol was already heading to the hill: he had to turn around and hold Samuel up.

“My brother,” Seungcheol whispered in his ear. Samuel began to sob again. “Shhhhh. There is no reason for tears. I know what I’m doing.”

“No, no, no, no,” Samuel pleaded. “You can’t, please, no. What did you trade? No! What did you _trade_?”

Jeonghan – the second eldest – appeared then. His eyes were so full of love, understanding and dismembering sadness that Seungcheol almost burst into tears again.

“Hey,” Seungcheol whispered. “Guess who’s here? Big brother Jeonghan is who.”

“I don’t want Jeonghan!” Samuel screamed. “Hyung, no!”

“Take him,” Seungcheol pleaded, his desperation obvious in the whisper.

Jeonghan took his baby brother from his King, gripping him tightly, no matter how much Samuel squirmed.

“Good luck, brother,” he said.

“Take care of my country,” Seungcheol nodded slowly.

“I will. Say hi to dad.”

“I will.” Seungcheol put a hand on his brother’s shoulder, and they spent a silent moment staring each other in the eyes. Their farewell was not put into words, nor were tears shed: they simply looked at each other. They both knew in spirit that what was about to happen was fair, judged by the gods themselves.

“Samuel.” Seungcheol whispered to his kicking baby brother. “Remember this. Sacrifice is the most kingly of gifts, but it can only be given once.” He kissed Samuel’s hair, and walked up the hill alone.

“No!” Samuel screamed, kicking and writhing until he was turned in Jeonghan’s arms. “No, come back! Seungcheol! Hyung! Come back! Come back!” The little boy’s tears were creating a puddle: his screams, a crowd. “Come back, hyung! Look at me! Look! At! Me!” He made it to the ground before Jeonghan fell to his knees, grasping his brother. “Come back! Look at me! Come back! Hyung! Hyung! No! Come back!”

At the very summit of the small hill there was a large boulder and the silhouette of a man.

“No, hyung, no!” Samuel was shaking again. “No!”

Seungcheol kneeled in front of the boulder, pressing his cheek to the cool stone, eyes closed peacefully.

“No!” Samuel’s cries became only stronger, more desperate. “Come back! Come back hyung! Come back! Look at me!”

“Sh,” Jeonghan tried to soothe. “He has to do this for you.”

“No!” Samuel screamed, sniffling. “No, hyung! Look back! Look back at me! _Please!_ ”

It was this last scream, terrified and heartbroken, that made Seungcheol open his eyes again to see his baby brother at the foot of the hill.

 _I love you,_ he mouthed. _My beautiful baby brother._

And then with the swoop of an axe, the King was no more.


End file.
